Harry Potter And The Second War
by AWMPerry
Summary: Following on directly from the end of The HalfBlood Prince, this eventually novellength fic takes the place of the as yet unwritten book seven.Rated T for language and possible upcoming violence, gore, and so on.


_**Harry Potter And The Second War**_

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Taking a leaf out of Terry Pratchett's book, and inspired by the Annotated Pratchett File and the AWVF, I've written into the story a number of references to external sources. Names, phrases, descriptions, background detail, anything; anyone who's read the Discworld books will know what to look out for. And, I have to say, nothing would please me more than having an annotation file of my very own. :-)

As for Ginny, some of my more astute readers may notice that she bears a slight resemblance to a delightful young lady I know named Mary Sue (though, I hope, no more than she does in the canon). This is intentional, based on two things; firstly, she arguably has some Sue-ish attributes even in the books (although I would normally disagree with the allegation, in this case it suits my purposes), and secondly, based on her background (the possession by Tom Riddle, the fact that she's the first female Weasley in many generations, etc) there are canonical implications that she is intended to become a particularly powerful witch. And, of course, I must admit to a certain element of bias – I just like Ginny.

I have also taken some liberties, notably with the plural of "Horcrux"; we don't know the etymology of the word, of course, but I'm choosing to use the "time-cross" Latin-based version, and thus using the Latin conjugations. Or almost-Latin, really, because I've forgotten most of it anyway…

Lastly, this is not yet finished. I don't yet know how frequent updates will be, but I can't promise anything. This is the first chapter completed, and the rest are still in various states of development ranging from "almost done" to "embryonic". They'll come when they come, and nothing's set in stone until the final chapter's been posted – I may well come back and edit this throughout, particularly for the sake of filling plot holes. If you see any errors, please let me know in a review!

The usual Harry Potter copyright disclaimers apply. All characters and plot elements that appear in the books are property of J K Rowling and her agents, my original characters and plot elements are mine, and so on.

* * *

**CHAPTER 1**

**THE END**

The three sat in silence under the tree by the lake for some time before they eventually started walking back towards the white tomb. The chairs were deserted now, except for a few mourning stragglers; the hulking forms of Hagrid and Grawp had lumbered halfway around the lake, and most of the remainder had wandered off through the grounds.

As they walked along, Ron and Hermione walking close together and Harry staring blankly at the ground with his hands thrust firmly into his pockets, Ginny approached from the seating area.

"You keep going, we'll catch up," she said quietly to Ron and Hermione as she passed. "I need to talk to Harry." Hermione managed a wan smile in response; Ron just nodded, and they continued towards the gates.

"Harry." Her tone was grim, and while the fire was gone from her eyes her face was still firmly set. "You're not getting rid of me."

"I have to," he mumbled after a pause, not looking up. "I've told you why. You wouldn't be safe." He didn't add _"First Sirius, now Dumbledore… I don't want you to be next,"_ but the miserable look on his face as he avoided her gaze pretty much covered it.

"I don't care." She spoke quietly, still as eerily calm as earlier. But as Harry glanced doubtfully at her she flared up. "I don't! Harry, do I bloody look as if I care? If…" She pulled herself together with a visible effort. "Look, I've been waiting for you for four years. I finally get you, and you want to clear off?"

"It's the only way to keep you safe," he said glumly.

"No way, I'm staying with you. Besides," she added with a wry smile, "as things are I guess I'll be just as safe with you as anywhere else." She came to a halt, watching Harry.

Harry walked on a few steps from where she had stopped. Then he turned round and looked at her before suddenly flopping down on the ground. He leaned back on the grass and lay there staring up at the clouds.

"Yeah."

It was barely a whisper, and was accompanied by a deep, long sigh that seemed to sum the whole situation up perfectly. Ginny walked closer and sat down beside him, looking with concern into his drawn face.

"Yeah, you probably are." He folded his arms behind his head, and all the air seemed to go out of him. "Oh, bollocks to the world."

Ginny said nothing, but reached out and gently touched his elbow. When Harry finally spoke again, the fury and sadness was apparent, even though his voice just sank and he remained just as still.

"Damn it, every time something goes right for me, something else comes along to mess it up. I come to Hogwarts; I almost get eaten by a troll, a bloody great basilisk, and a couple of dozen dragons. I win the Tri-Wizard; Cedric gets slaughtered by Voldemort because of me. I get that prophecy; Sirius dies. I get you, and…" He noticed a miniscule tear welling up in the corner of his eye and wiped it away with an embarrassed flick of the hand. "You didn't see that." Ginny just smiled, and wiped away the next one.

"You've still got me. And I'm staying. I'm going with you, wherever it is you're going."

"You can't, Ginny. It's too…"

"It's not too dangerous. Look, I'm not letting you go and get killed without me. I mean…" She flushed.

"Yeah." Harry finally smiled, then reached up and stroked her shoulder. "I know what you mean. You're sure, though? This is Voldemort we're talking about." He pointed at the tomb. "Next time it could be you up there."

"I know." She was deadly serious now, clutching his hand to her shoulder and with the hard, resolved look back on her face. "But I'm staying."

"But if Voldemort tries to get at me through you…"

"He'll try anyway."

"He doesn't know how much you m…"

"Oh, come on, Harry!" Ginny was starting to get angry, though she kept her voice low. "We haven't exactly been discreet, have we? Kissing me in front of the whole house – I'm not complaining, mind you, that was about time – didn't stay quiet for long, and mooning around by the lake all those mornings meant even the Slytherins couldn't miss us!"

Harry reddened.

"I suppose so."

"So how many people do you think could have got that to You-Know-Who? Apart from Snape and Malfoy, I mean?" Her expression softened at the wince her comment about Snape had elicited. "Sorry."

"Well… anyone related to a Death Eater, I guess. Oh, you're right, I know. But still…"

"They know we're… involved. Do you think You-Know-Who cares whether you think you've broken up with me or not?"

"No, I sup…"

"He'll come after us both, sooner or later." And then, wrapping her arms around him, she put in the clincher. "And when he comes after me, I'd much rather you were with me. Or vice versa."

Harry sat up and kissed her gently, then helped her to her feet.

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. I don't want it to be you on that slab either."

He looked at her oddly for a moment, then put his arm around her shoulders and started back for the castle.

"Okay." She pulled him to her as they walked back towards the gates. After a moment, she glanced at him.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Since when do you say 'bollocks'?"

Harry emitted a sound that might have been half a chuckle.

"Sorry. I'm just… I'm a bit out of sorts. Didn't mean for you to hear that."

"Don't be sorry," Ginny grinned, squeezing him with the arm she had around his waist. "It's a good word."

When they got to where Ron and Hermione were waiting, they found them sitting on a stack of trunks and suitcases, holding hands. Seeing this, Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Holding hands? This is news, isn't it?"

"Well, you know…" Ron began, reddening, but was interrupted by Hermione, who obviously had no interest in letting that train of enquiry continue.

"We got your luggage down," she announced, ignoring him, "and McGonagall wants to see you before you leave." Seeing Harry's pained glance at the tower containing Dumble… McGonagall's office, she smiled. "Don't worry, she's down here. In the gatehouse."

"Right." Harry's voice was resigned as he set off for the gatehouse. He had not yet told McGonagall about his plans not to return to Hogwarts, but he was fairly certain what she would say.

* * *

"Out of the question, Harry." 

"Professor, I _can't_ stay. I wish I could – you know how much I like Hogwarts – but I _have_ to find…"

"The Horcruces?" She raised an eyebrow at his shocked expression. "Don't look so surprised; Professor Dumbledore left a… a message for me about them. Moody knows as well. And you think that you're fully qualified to go hunting for four of them, when he took ten years to find two? Let me remind you that the first one nearly took his hand, and the second one, you will recall, practically killed him. No, Harry…"

"Professor…"

"_No_, Harry. You will complete your seventh year. I will expect to see you here in September, as usual. And you are quite emphatically _not_, if I may make this absolutely clear, to be dead at the time. Do I make myself understood?"

Harry couldn't tell if he was being reprimanded or given an affectionate caution; he simply nodded.

"I have asked Mr Weasley to arrange an Apparation examination for you during the summer; it is about time you get your licence. Oh, and if I were you I would not be surprised to find a representative from the Auror department visiting you at some point soon after young Mr Weasley's wedding. I have," she smiled lopsidedly, "been making _arrangements_."

"Oh… thank you!" Harry was stunned, but then another thought struck him. "Professor, will the school still be opening next term?"

"If I have any say in the matter, yes. This school has weathered worse storms."

"And…" He thought back to the funeral, and the toad-like form of Dolores Umbridge. "What was Umbridge doing at the funeral? Is the Ministry thinking of making her headmistress?"

"Good lord, no." McGonagall's face clearly showed her utter disdain for Umbridge. "That foul creature will _not_ be getting anywhere near my school while I have any say in the matter. No, I have some degree of hope that the Governors will let me stay on in that capacity, but we shall see. But now," she remarked without a glance at the clock, "you must be off to the station."

Harry said his goodbyes and rushed to join the others, and a few moments later he was back with them as they hurried towards the last coach to Hogsmeade. Ginny and Hermione came to a wide-eyed stop as they approached.

"What the hell are _those_?" Ginny asked, pointing at the front of the coach.

"Thestrals," Harry said. "They've been there all along, but you can only see them if you've seen death –remember getting to the Ministry last year?"

"So that's what they look like…" Hermione breathed. "I always wondered… they're rather horrible, aren't they?"

"What?" asked Ron.

"The longer you can't see them, the better," said Harry quietly. "Be glad."

"Yeah," agreed Ginny. "At least Hermione and I can only see them because we saw that Death Eater get killed."

"Wonder if it would work if I just strangled bloody Malfoy," Ron mused, eliciting a grim smile from Harry.

"Try it and see."

They loaded their luggage onto the rack and climbed in, Harry and Ginny studiously avoiding looking towards the front of the coach. Ron was staring hard at the shafts, squinting fiercely, as if he expected the thestrals to fade in if he looked hard enough.

"Ron, get in." Hermione had already taken her seat and was gesturing for him to sit beside her; Ginny and Harry were curled up together in the corner of the opposite bench.

"Oh… yeah." He clambered into the coach and sat next to her, unconsciously wrapping his hand around hers. With the Thestrals – or, at least, the void where the Thestrals were – out of sight, he seemed to lose interest in them. "Hey, Harry, what did McGonagall want?"

"She says I have to come back for seventh year." It was difficult, in the shadowy interior of the coach, to decide if the expression on Harry's face was one of disappointment or relief; it would probably have been difficult even in full daylight.

"She _is_ right, you know." Hermione, perhaps as a result of not feeling any need to bait Ron any more, was heading back to her old self. "It doesn't make sense to go after… him without being fully trained."

"I suppose you're right. But still, I mean, I hate feeling as if I'm just waiting for Voldemort to come to me. Ron, what do you think?"

"I'm with you whatever you decide, mate, you know that. But I've got to agree – it's probably better to get your NEWTs first, make sure you're as well trained as you can get."

"Ginny, you're agreeing as well?"

Ginny, now lying across his lap, shrugged as she replied bluntly. "You'll live longer."

Harry sighed, resigning himself to another year on the defensive.

"All right. But as soon as I finish the year, I'll…"

"Remember what we said, Harry." Ginny interrupted quietly, staring at the ceiling.

"…_we'll_ set off to find the Horcruces. And Voldemort." His face darkened. "And we'll kill him, and his little Snape, too." He massaged the bridge of his nose. "And," he muttered, "I owe that bastard Malfoy for this…" As he sat there, stroking Ginny's hair, he was too absorbed in his thoughts to notice that worried glance that passed between Hermione and Ron. But before they could say anything, Ron caught a glimpse of white wrought-iron railings outside the window.

"We're at the station, guys," he said, leaping out and starting to haul the trunks off the luggage rack. The others exited the coach rather more sedately and gathered their luggage before heading for the train.

"You're staying with us until the wedding, yeah?" Ron asked as they climbed aboard.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Hermione, you too? I think Mum's expecting you, anyway."

Hermione nodded. "What are we doing after that?"

"Dunno," Harry said. "I'll probably go and visit the Dursleys, get whatever stuff I've got left there, then off to Godric's Hollow." _And maybe find a Horcrux or two,_ he thought, _but there's no need to worry them with that._ "I think I need to get a new Fidelius charm set up around Number Twelve, too, now that Dumbledore's…" He seemed as if he was about to choke up, but composed himself and changed the subject. "Where's the wedding going to be now?"

"Well, they were talking about holding it in France, but with the security situation… I think they settled on just having it back at the Burrow. 'As soon as possible,' Mum said."

"Bet Fleur wasn't pleased about that," Harry smiled. "Or at least not the Burrow bit… here, let's take this compartment." They eased into the empty compartment and stowed their luggage, closing the door behind them.

"Oh, I dunno," Ginny said. "Mum's starting to like her more after that spectacle in the hospital wing. I'm not sure yet, but if she's as sincere as she seemed…"

"I might come around, if Ron could stop gawking at her as if he'd been clubbed over the head," Hermione said with a sideways glare at him.

"You can't really blame him for that, Hermione," Harry said. "She _is_ part Veela, remember–" Ron turned gratefully towards Harry, whose face was turning into a devious grin. Hermione looked doubtful, but she could tell they were leading up to something.

"–and he's a bit soft in the head," finished Ginny, grinning just as broadly.

"Hey!" Ron exclaimed, gaping. "It's not my fault!"

"No," Ginny agreed, grinning, "your head's got nothing to do with it."

Ron turned crimson, but before anyone could answer, the door slid open and Luna Lovegood drifted in, a vague frown creasing her otherwise vacant expression.

"Oh good," she smiled, seeing Ginny back in Harry's arms. "I knew you'd get back together… I'm _so_ glad. Has the food trolley passed? I'm a bit hungry… I think Neville just proposed to me."

"No, last time the trolley came round was an hour and a bit ago…" Hermione began. Then her brain caught up with her ears. "_What?_"

"Yes, I could tell they couldn't stay away from each other for long."

"No, no… I mean, Neville _proposed_?"

"Mmm," Luna nodded. "I think I accepted. Oh, are those chocolate frogs?"

Hermione gave no answer, but handed Luna the paper bag as she shot to her feet and marched back through the train. A moment later her voice echoed through the train.

"LONGBOTTOM!"

Ron shrank back in his seat, trying to avoid the vicarious embarrassment that would surely ensue, but Harry and Ginny just looked amused.

"Oooh, Neville's for it now," Ginny chuckled.

"Oh dear," Luna said. "Did I upset her?"

"Don't worry. I think she's just a bit overprotective." Ginny was trying – and failing – to suppress a grin. "She'll calm down soon."

"Oh, good." Luna swallowed a frog whole and smiled beatifically. She opened her satchel and withdrew the latest _Daily Prophet_.

"No _Quibbler_ today, Luna?" Harry finally spoke.

"I've already read it. Besides, you have to keep up with what's happening."

"But I thought you said never to believe anything in the papers?"

"Oh, I did. You just need to read what they're not writing."

"Fair enough," Harry conceded, shrugging his eyebrows. Much to his astonishment, Luna's comment made a strange sort of sense to him. Just then Hermione bustled back in, with a thoroughly chastised Neville in tow.

"Sit."

Neville did as he was ordered, parking himself protectively next to Luna. Hermione stood in front of them, arms akimbo, and glared. Ginny, realising what was to come, drew her wand and waved it at the door, muttering something. The door slid shut and locked; there was no sense in providing entertainment for the _whole_ train.

"Neville, you _proposed_?"

"Um…." Neville suddenly seemed extremely interested in his fingernails.

"And Luna, you _accepted_ his proposal?"

"Hmm? Yes…. Why?"

"Luna, you're _fifteen_, for heaven's sake! Neville, you're only sixteen! You can't get _engaged_!" The train jolted as it rumbled onto a bridge, throwing Hermione off her feet; she plonked back hard onto the seat. Even Ron could barely resist a chuckle, but a glare from Hermione wiped the smile off his face. Sitting up again and leaning towards the, she turned her attention back to Neville and Luna. "What were you _thinking_?"

Neville whimpered and seemed to be trying to sink through the back of his seat, but Luna's dreamy expression never wavered.

"I like him, he likes me. It seemed obvious."

"_You're__fifteen!_"

"Yes," Luna said, matter-of-factly. "And we could be dead before I'm sixteen."

"Thanks for that, Luna," Harry muttered quietly.

"Always nice to hear that we're all going to die," Ginny agreed, leaning back onto Harry's lap, but none of the others showed any sign of having heard them. Hermione spluttered.

"So… Okay, I can understand your reasoning, and yes, you two are insane enough for each other, but still, getting _married_… and we never thought… I mean, you two have never seemed… um…"

Neville finally found his voice again.

"Well, we… we can if we want to!" He looked shocked at the vehemence in his own voice.

"Well…" Hermione was getting increasingly flustered. "Well, of course, but I never expected you two to… I mean, you never mentioned…"

"You've all been busy," Luna said simply. "Don't worry, I'm not surprised. You've been very distracted."

"I suppose…" Hermione was wavering. "But… you can't get married just because there's a war on!"

"You know, the highest marriage rate of the twentieth century, in Britain at least, was in 1940," said Luna.

"Well, yeah," Hermione admitted. "But that was because they didn't know if they'd ever see… oh. Well, I mean… What about the… other aspects of that? Um."

"Other aspects?" Neville asked, turning white.

"Um… towards the middle and end of the war there was… um… well, it was called the Baby Boom." Hermione started turning red. Neville looked blank for a moment, then caught on and was soon a similar shade of scarlet.

"Oh." It was obviously not an aspect he had considered. "Um… I don't think that's anything to… er… worry about too much. We haven't discussed… um… We're not planning to… er…"

"I wonder what it would be like to have a family of my own," Luna said dreamily, clearly quite taken with the idea. Neville stared at her, panic-stricken.

"F…. family?"

"Mmm. We've got a cat at home. She had kittens last year, eight of them. She seemed very pleased about it."

"Blimey. Er…"

"Looks like _he's _having kittens," Ginny whispered to Harry, who chuckled quietly.

"Neville," he said. "You're nuts, but best of luck. And you'll invite us to the wedding, right?"

"Wedding…" Neville squeaked, nodding absently. "Yes… engaged… wedding…"

Luna smiled benevolently at him before sitting back with her newspaper. Her voice drifted softly out from behind it.

"September's such a nice month, don't you think?"

* * *

Fifty miles west of them as the train thundered towards London, a man was bleeding. 

"Do you feel more inclined to tell us now, Mr Mopple?" The cloaked figure raised his cut-throat razor and made a small nick in the prostrate man's ear. "Or would you rather have a few more war wounds?"

"I… can't tell you…"

"Are you sure, Mr Mopple?" The voice was silky and, suddenly, oddly sympathetic. "Does it hurt?"

"Yes…"

"Be glad it hurts. It means you're not dead." The cloaked man knelt beside the wounded man, blood oozing from dozens of minute cuts. "I'm sure there's still a lot you can tell us."

Sixteen minutes later, it no longer hurt.


End file.
